


The Theory Of Power

by HenryMars



Category: Soul Star - Fandom
Genre: AO3 lies, Anxiety, Ao3 claims this is an original work, Gen, Hints towards Those Fun Thoughts, I Still Know Pretty Much Nothing About Them And So Here I Am Writing Fanfiction, Inferiority, This is still based off Charriii5's characters for his teaser, Will update characters list as I write this, headcanons galore, like depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 22:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17232353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HenryMars/pseuds/HenryMars
Summary: A compilation of headcanons of how the Soul Star crew got their powers because I think my theories are cool. Will be updated as more characters are released and if I get ideas for them.





	1. A Moonlit Crystal

**Author's Note:**

> AO3 marked Soul Star as an Original Work and I'm like, "Yeah but not by me." I cannot be more clear how much of this is fanfiction bc I didn't even know AO3 did original work.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=McrTk7TZ9FM <<<< It the teaser I'm hype for this game

Every person is unique, from the way they talk to the way they think, from what they love to the way they eat. Each person first comes into their powers in a different way, and even then it's not set in stone. It's been likened to dating; you may have multiple partners before finding one that you  _ know _ is right. It’s not uncommon to manifest several powers before the right one suddenly reveals itself.

When you discover your power, your soul's true partner, you know. It hits you like a bullet, or like a train. It hits you like a battlefield and a moving symphony. It speaks like a whisper and shouts like a storm.

  
🌙⭐

  
Kaumudi felt it on a restless night. Shadows dogged her sleep, made her wake up in sweats and pants, terrified of a threat she could no longer see but could feel loom over her shoulder. She suffered her burden quietly, by herself; there was enough to worry about without something as trivial as her night terrors. The shape of the monsters in her head were nothing against the ones that slinked in the badlands outside the city limits.

She often took walks when this restlessness happened; the exercise cleared her mind, shaking her demons from her shoulders, and Kaumudi felt kinship with the moon. Her light was tranquility, and it soothed her temper. She's a role model on her sleepless nights, she waxes and wanes like she does. She's swaddled in velvet and starlight, softly suspended in the air. Ever-watchful, like a guardian. A mother.  
One night, the moonlight lit Kaumudi like blue fire, her seafoam-blue hair going up in a chilling flame. Ice solidified in her veins, spilled from her fingertips. Her legs froze and she stumbled and fell. It spread, it was spreading, icing the road in fractal patterns. They were climbing her body, adhering her to the pavement. Crystals pricked her eyes and shattered into pieces as they hit the ice. Her world became a translucent arctic and _it hurt so much, she was so cold, she was suffocating. Her lungs won't work, why aren't they working? They were frozen,_ she _was frozen._ _She was ice, from head to toe, so cold that she was burning, consumed inside-out and cocooned in a glacier_.  
Her mind lunged desperately for a solution. _Never has she felt so much pain._

She thought of the moon, she thought of the peace granted every night by its presence in the sky. She thought of the anger and despair she felt now, the choking on ice and bitter cold.   
And she thought of the moon.   
And the ice melted as if it never was. She could still feel it inside her; a perpetually-curling sensation, like a crisp cold breeze throughout her chest. She knew then that Ice was her calling. Her song, the simple ringing melody like glasses clinking together in a toast. Her power that shone like Polaris, that bit like winter.

That speckled her dreams with starlight.


	2. To Flow Like The Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad I wrote more for Hacim than Kaumudi but to be fair more action happened here.

☄🔆

 

With Hacim it was vastly different. He was deep inside an underground temple from which leaked terrors said to be fragments of the Darkness itself. Although it was in the dead of summer, the hallways that led to the core were frigid and crawling with sentient ooze. Remnants from what was surely a much more dangerous force eons ago, it was leaking from the formerly-sealed ruins and endangering the neighboring towns; it tainted the rivers and the game, a virus that killed the wildlife wherever it touched.

...And it was sorta Hacim’s fault.  
All he wanted was to do good. He wanted to be a hero, someone to look up to. He wanted to be a sun, a beacon of hope and light for everyone.

Unfortunately, a powerful misstep of earth magic -- this power had only manifested a couple days ago -- cleaved the forest ground on a training venture, unknowingly breaking a seal on an ancient underground keep that had kept a nasty fragment of Darkness inside. Weeks later, he heard about the plagues, the rot of the forest, and put two and three together. All that destruction, on his shoulders...

Guilt haunted him as he fought through the halls. If he could reseal the ruins, even destroy this Darkness once and for all, it would at least help him atone, taking responsibility for the troubles he inadvertently caused. But the cold slowed him down, stinging his throat and lungs due to the sharp contrast in temperatures. He was burning up, exhausted, but he was almost there. So close. He felt it in the stone, the earth; his newfound elements acted as a map, helpful this far down. He was claustrophobic, or used to be, until he manifested this powerful -- and destructive -- attribute. Now the earth felt a part of him, albeit he feared this new lurking energy; as a result, he strove to control his wayward temper. He’s seen what happened to those not in control of their elements.

The center of the underground temple was a chamber of cobblestone as uncharacteristically clean and weathered as the rest of the place, and slippery with the oily and tarrish residue of the ooze. Pearlescent purple-black glistened off puddles on the ground in what little light trickled from the eroded cracks in the ceiling, dappling the ground in spots of far-away hope.

The source was a stone fountain, pumping the darkness like water. It overflowed and seeped into the cracks in the floor; it fed on the mildew and mold for who knows how long, keeping the chamber surprisingly well-kept. When it sensed Hacim, it reared up from the pool and formed an eye that stared at him as if to pierce him through the center with its gaze.

The flame-haired warrior was at a loss of what to do; the use of earth magic might do more harm than good, and his blade can’t kill what was essentially evil gelatin. He could try to isolate the fountain long enough to re-affix the seal he disrupted. It was above them, split in several places, but reproducible, Hacim was certain. He didn’t have much experience with his element, but he could at least give this a shot.

He held his hands out, fingers spread, and focused.

Then the worst happened.

The stone that settled itself like a burden on his heart crumbled away, and the room began to pulsate and feel so terribly cramped. He lost the sense of the temple; the great internal map he used to get down so far dissipated in his mind. Loneliness and anxiety crashed into him an instant before a wave of the Dark Ooze did, sweeping him off his feet and slamming him against the wall. Suns swam in his vision, rot invaded his mouth and bathed it in a stinging acid. He could feel it fizzle his tongue and erode his teeth. He coughed as it swamped his senses. All he could smell, taste, see, hear was his mistakes, his foolishness, and the Dark Ooze that was drowning and dissolving him. Something inside him began to burn. Slowly, blending in with the acute sensation of being digested. Hotter and hotter, he felt his insides blister, like coals settling in his skin. He screamed, ooze bubbling from his face, he and writhed and thrashed -- he felt like he was boiling!

Something else screamed too, and the Dark Ooze bubbled and charred. It retreated, relinquishing its hold on Hacim. The boy fell to the floor and vomited up black chunks of the Darkness. His throat convulsed over and over, expelling black-purple bile, then blood.

Then he puked up something else, something white-hot and viscous. Pain like nothing he’s ever felt before rushed up his body and out of his mouth, leaked from his eyes, nose, ears, from the cuts in his hands. He dripped with scalding-hot magma, the same burning fluid he just expelled in a messy puddle in front of him.

When he finally stopped, he wiped his mouth on his arm, bracing himself for the pain. Instead, he smeared soot and ash and dust across his pale arm, cold as an unused fire pit. The intense burning subsided, becoming easily a distant memory. Hacim panted, his limbs trembling as he tried to regain his strength and bearings. A hearth was ignited in his chest, warming him with wordless reassurance. Energy rippled back into him in gentle lapping waves, like a beach on a calm sunny day. His breathing slowed, his heart rate lowered, and the magma in front of him cooled into rock. He looked back at the room’s center with focused blue eyes like cookie-cutter stars.

The Dark Ooze stewed in its fountain and watched with apprehension. Burnt hunks swam in its pool, and Hacim knew instantly what to do. He got back to his feet and sprinted to the Darkness. Liquid fire rushed through his veins, bubbled up like a...well, fountain in his hand. He plunged it fearlessly into the depths. Shrieks shook the walls, vibrating the air. The Dark Ooze lashed out wildly, but Hacim refused to be moved a second time. He withstood the acidic whippings and shot another magma-filled hand into the body of the Darkness and watched as its shifting opalescent black and purple colors turned to black and white chunks. The whips grew skinnier, weaker. They didn’t even hurt anymore, like his skin toughened against anything that could burn him.

The fountain stopped flowing and was still, a cracked and rigid surface of rock. Soot flew up when Hacim yanked his hands free. He wiped them on his shirt. When he turned to leave, he felt slight resistance and looked down. His shoes were equally grey with ash; unbeknownst to him in the moment, he had anchored himself against the Dark Ooze’s attempts to shove him away.

Magma churned through his body like an eternally-stewing soup. It kept the chill of the dark halls at bay as he made his way back to the surface. It made him glow, banishing shadows that lunged at him, angry now that they were separated from their parent, their source.

Hacim dispatched them as easily as lighting a match.


End file.
